The Truth: Part I

Chapter 1: Trying Your Damnedest to Let Go

Thirteen hours and thirty-six minutes – that's what the countdown on Zoe Murphy's laptop screen said. She had thirteen hours and thirty-six minutes until her last final, thirteen hours and thirty-six minutes until summer vacation and two months of absolute freedom. She let out a big breath of air and put her head in her hands, her elbows on her knees, then she looked up at the clock on the wall.

It was a little after eleven-thirty now, and the campus Starbucks closed at midnight. In her head, she calculated how long it would take her to get across campus as she pulled on her raincoat and grabbed her phone and her keys. Usually, it took about ten minutes walking, and an extra three for the stupid keycard to let her in after dark. But now it was pouring buckets outside, so she didn't know if she could make it in time. It wouldn't hurt to try, and even if she didn't get down there in time, at least she'd get a break from this.

She hopped out of bed and made her way out her door and into the rain. It was pitch black other than the streetlamps which illuminated the raindrops in front of her face and caused the ground to shimmer almost enchantingly. At every corner, too, were those blue glowing police towers, should you find yourself in a sticky situation after dark. She hoped she wouldn't have to use one; she'd been here for two years and hadn't had the need to yet, but…well, there's always a first time for everything.

She tried not to think of that as she trudged through two inches of water, her sneakers and socks already soaked through, sloshing and splashing with every step. Luckily, the rain didn't slow her down any, but when she got to the door and scanned her student ID to open the door, as usual, it didn't open immediately. So she tried again. And it still didn't open. Once more, she tried again, and just when she was about to give up, someone got up from the table in the corner and pushed the door open for her.

"Thanks," she said gratefully as she stepped past them into the warm, dimly lit Starbucks. She noticed a few other late night studiers were propped up, half-awake, open books and laptops in front of them, cups of coffee in hand, and she smiled, glad she wasn't the only one.

"I saw you out there and I felt bad for you standing out there in the rain, you know," the person, a man, said with a familiar, nervous kind of laugh.

"Evan?" she said, looking up at him for the first time in almost four years.

He was taller now, and a bit broader, but it was him. It was the same shade of dark blonde hair and the same blue-green eyes. The same small, anxious smile and the same nervous picking at the hem of his shirt. He had a beard now, too. Not a long, unkempt beard, but a short one that looked like he kept it very well-groomed. It looked nice on him, but she quickly shook that thought from her head, blinking it away like the raindrops that clung to her eyelashes.

"Oh, shit," he said, realizing then who he was speaking to as well. "Zoe! Hi. How are you? I –"

"God, I forgot you went here, too," she said, visibly flustered. "I…I'm okay, I guess. H-how are you?"

She wanted to disappear into thin air. She had almost hoped subconsciously never to see him at such a close range again after what he had done to her and her family. There was almost a good chance of it, too, considering the fact that he was a botany major (possibly the farthest thing from her field of study, ethnomusicology) and he had graduated early. But obviously he was back for grad school. Go figure.

"I'm…yeah, I'm doing okay, too, I guess," he said. "Hey, can we talk?"

Her heart jumped into her throat. She took a step away from him, toward the counter, and she swallowed hard. She didn't have time for this. There was no way she was going to listen to anything he had to say.

"Please, Zoe?" he said quietly, following her over to the order line.

"No, Evan," she said curtly.

"Be with you in just a second!" the barista called from the back.

"No hurry!" she called back politely, cutting a glance over to Evan. In a lower voice, she said, "Please, Evan, not now."

"I know you're probably busy, and I know I hurt you back in high school, but at least let me talk to you and try to fix things," he said.

"There are no words that I can think of that would fix what you did," she hissed at him.

"At least let me start with, 'I'm sorry,'" he said.

"That's a start," she scoffed and turned to face the barista who was now making his way over to the register.

"Hi, my name is Alex," the barista smiled, oddly cheerful for so late at night in the middle of finals week. "What can I get you?"

"Uh, just a black coffee, two sugars," Zoe said.

"Alright, coming right up."

He turned and made his way back to one of the machines, giving Evan time enough to put in one more, "Please, Zoe."

"Here you are," Alex said, reappearing. "That'll be two seventy-three."

"You're pathetic," said Zoe.

"Excuse me?" Alex said, confused.

"Oh, no, not you," she said. "I'm sorry, I was talking to my friend here."

"Friend?" Evan asked.

"Friend may be the wrong word," she sighed and handed Alex the money. "Thank you."

She took her coffee and Alex wished her a good night before disappearing back into the back. Evan followed her to the door.

"Zoe, I want to make things right between us," said Evan. "I don't want there to be any more hard feelings. I don't want you to hate me."

"I don't hate you; I could never –" she stammered, and cut herself off with a small, exasperated noise. "Evan, I could never hate you, but please let me go. You have no idea how stressed I am right now and you're only exacerbating the problem."

"You have a test tomorrow?" he guessed, following her out into the rain.

She kept on walking, more purposefully than she had when she left her dorm. "Of course I do."

"What class?"

"What does it matter?"

"What class, Zoe?"

"Music theory," she said after a moment, stopping at a crosswalk and pressing the button frantically. There were no cars to be seen, but the damned thing was stuck on DON'T WALK.

"And you really think you need to stay up all night studying for that?" he asked.

"No, not really. I just really think I don't want to talk to you about this tonight," she said, and she walked ahead, giving up on getting the light to change.

Behind her, Evan looked both ways before hesitantly stepping into the street and running after her. "Just give me one night and I swear to whatever god you want me to swear to that I will never bother you again. Please."

She started walking faster.

"Zoe, ple–Zoe!"

She was running now, with him still following her. She stopped a few yards ahead and put her finger right on the little red button in the middle of the corner police tower.

"Leave me the fuck alone! You know, maybe Connor was right. You're a freak."

"Zoe, come on," he said with a frown, his arms out at his sides.

In its bluish glow, Evan could see a look in her eye that told him she was serious. If he took one more step forward, he knew she'd press it. And what would it look like to the cops, an almost six-foot-tall male grad student, full beard and everything, chasing after a five-foot-something little college girl after dark in the rain? He sighed, defeated, and crossed his arms.

"Fine, you win," he said.

"Good," she said, and she took her finger off the button.

Her dorm was just a few yards up the sidewalk, and she hurried up to it.

"I still wish you'd hear me out, though," Evan said from where he was by the street.

"Evan, go home!" she said right before the biggest flash of lightning she had ever seen in her life, and a simultaneous crash of thunder, making her scream in fright.

Just then, a voice from above her head said, "Hey, you alright down there?"

"Wh-oh, fine! Thanks!" she said, calling up to the guy on the floor above her, who was peering over his balcony at them.

"He bothering you?" he asked, pointing at Evan.

Zoe glanced over at Evan, who was standing there with his hands in his pockets. "No!" she called. "I'm fine. He's not bothering me."

"Alright," the guy said. "Night, guys."

There was another lightning flash and another boom of thunder, and she jumped. "God," she said, opening the door. "You know, I can't send you away in this. Get inside."

"Really?" he said, a spark of hope in his eyes.

"Only because it's storming, Hansen, and I don't want you to get struck down by lightning," she said, nodding for him to hurry up.

"Thank you," he said, and he followed her inside. "Really."